


Letters Between Brothers

by Syran



Series: Robin Reverse AU [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Damian Wayne is a good brother, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Reverse Chronology, Sequel, finding self-worth, he's trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-06-29 11:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syran/pseuds/Syran
Summary: Damian’s relationships with his brothers were always strained. Now Damian’s the oldest. The birds need him, and he has to step up to the plate. As he tries to fill in the space for his absent brother, Damian wonders if he’s doing more harm than good.Terry’s gone.Now what?





	1. From Hate to Love

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ: This is a direct sequel to “To Be a Good Brother”, please read that one first. It’s only been a month after that story.  
> Also: To those that was reading the Tim origin story, sorry but I had to take it down. I didn’t really like the direction it was going in, and also it was a little too early. It was acting as an answer to a question that the readers wouldn’t know to asked just yet. It was also a little too long, and had too much unnecessary information. It’s an important story (of course it’s Tim’s origin), but it’ll be held off. Other things have to happen first. Until then, enjoy this story of Damian trying to be a good brother. It'll be about 4 chapters long.

Gotham was beautiful at night. The light blues that filled the sky during the day became somber as the day continued on. Many talk of the pollution that sullied the clouds surrounding Gotham, darkening them, but Damian always found the beauty in them. They were poisoned – damaged even – but they still covered the city in a remarkable mid-night blue when night fell. Damian leaned on his desk as he looked out of the window, appreciating the view. “Maybe I’m just biased,” Damian thought aloud, “Wayne Enterprises do provide the best view.” Maybe from thousands of feet below the smog was more suffocating than beautiful. Damian could no longer tell. It felt like years since the last time he’s watched the sky from the ground.

“Quite the view, huh?” Damian didn’t turn when Tim spoke, but he did slide over to accommodate his brother when the younger man made for his desk. “It’s even better from up here,” Tim continued. The younger smiled, and Damian could feel his lips tilt when he saw it reflected in the window. It was rare for him to see Tim smile like that. They spent so much of their youth fighting. Tim stood afterwards, walking to the window and placing his forearm upon it. “It’s nice,” he said as he leaned against the window, “To take a break and look at it all.”

“I suppose so,” Damian spoke carefully. He and Tim didn’t speak often, especially over such trivial things. A conversation such as this usual cropped up between Tim and Terry. Though, since Terry isn’t here. “It’ll do,” Damian said. Tim raised an eyebrow. “The view,” Damian explained, “It’ll do. It doesn’t hold a candle to the other horizons I’ve seen.” Tim’s easy smile fell from his face.

The teenager rolled his eyes and Damian sighed. “You can’t just agree with me? Just this once,” Tim fussed. He pushed  himself from the window before sulkily coming to sit by Damian again. “I heard you talk about the view from outside the door, Damian,” the younger said, “I just wanted to talk normally for once. Must everything be a fight with you?”

The question made Damian pause. With Terry everything _was_ a fight. It worked for them. Fights were how they communicated. It was a fight that forced them to become brothers. The same couldn’t be said about Tim. Why didn’t the same approach work with Tim? More accurately, why didn’t _any_ approach work with Tim?

“It’s quite obvious that we were not tailored for ‘normal’ conversations, Drake,” Damian answered. He could see the tension rise in Tim’s shoulders after he spoke. He knew how much Tim hated it when Damian called him by his surname. While the teen adored his father, Damian knew how excluded ‘Drake’ made Tim feel. He wasn’t a ‘Wayne’ like Damian and Terry. ‘Drake’ was a reminder of how Tim was different, when all the teen wanted was to belong. It was a reminder of all he’s lost, when Tim just wanted to focus on all he’s gained. So to get under Tim’s skin all Damian had to do was call Tim ‘Drake’, and today Damian wanted to get under Tim’s skin. It’s what he would have done if Terry was here.

Tim breathed in through his nose, anger rolling off the sound. His fist were balled at his thighs, the sides of his palms leaving smeared prints on Damian’s gunmetal desk. “Obviously not,” Tim said. He ran his fingers through his raven hair, before he snatched himself from Damian’s desk. “I just thought that since Terry wasn’t here that we could-,” Tim began but Damian harshly cut him off.

“There’s not need to behave differently because Terry isn’t here,” Damian exclaimed. He still hasn’t looked Tim in the eyes yet. “Don’t treat me as if I’m him,” the Wayne Prince proudly declared, “I’m not.”

“Clearly,” Tim snapped. He yanked the door open, nearly snatching it from the doorframe. Damian finally looked up when he heard his office door smack harshly into his wall. He sometimes forgot that Tim was that strong. Maybe that was why he riled Tim up so often. It was the only way to see the boy’s full strength. It was the only way to pull the other out of his meek and timid shell. “I told Terry that this family would be a mess without him,” Tim seethed, “And I was right. Things are already so damn hard without him here, and yet you’re still adamant about making it worst.” He ground his teeth, his jaw popping from his cheek. His eyes were lit with frustration and disappointment. “I just can't anymore,” he then left, slamming the door shut.

Damian moved from the edge of his desk to the leather chair behind it. He toyed with the handle, enjoying the darkening skies of Gotham from the corner of his eye. “Tt, about time you finally spoke your mind, Timothy,” Damian spoke to his empty office.

Ever since Terry left Tim smiled and laughed. He was an ear for Jason and a shoulder for Dick. During the day he continued as if nothing changed, going to work and leading his team in Jump City. Despite that, Damian still noticed Tim’s pain. At night the teenager paused in front of Terry’s locked door with his knuckles up to knock, always stopping himself once he remembered that no one would answer. It was heartbreaking for Damian to watch as Tim slithered back to his room. Despite their arguments, Tim was still Damian’s brother. Damian may not have been able to lend an ear or a shoulder, but he could easily burst Tim’s bubble of denial. Damian knew that anger always made Tim speak out what he’s been hiding.  

Damian rose from his chair, his eyes tiring from reading the company documents that he took from Tim’s desk. He walked around the room, picking up nameless artwork that fell during Tim’s tirade. He was straightening a piece when his door opened again, a meek Timothy sticking his head in. Damian frowned. He _despised_ a timid Tim. “I’m sorry,” the CEO said. Damian nodded, unimpressed. Tim was always sorry. If the other wanted his attention, then he should have saved the apologies. “I just-,” Tim began but Damian was already ignoring him. He wanted Tim’s truth, not his excuses. “I’m trying to apologize, _you brat_ ,” the teen exclaimed. His elder brother rose an amused eyebrow. Now they were getting somewhere. “I’m sorry for going off on you, ok,” Tim started again, “But I’ve been going through it.”

Damian gestured him in. “I know,” he said. Tim made to question him, but Damian ended it quickly. He had other things to attend to. As the sun sank lower, Gotham’s underbelly began to rise. This talk needed to be finished by then. “I may be many things,” Damian said, “But stupid is not one of them.” Tim rolled his eyes, but the other continued. “I saw you whimpering pathetically in front of Terry’s door,” Damian said teasingly. The younger brother bristled, but Damian softened his teasing smile. “I also saw you taking the brunt of Jason’s anger,” Damian continued, “And ruining your suits with the littlest one’s tears. You’ve been doing what I should have been doing.” Tim shoulders lowered. It was as if a invisible weight was lifted from them. Finally someone _noticed_. “I noticed,” Damian told him, “I just didn’t know how to help.”

“I just,” Tim began, but he paused. He sighed, eyeing Damian’s desk as he tried to collect his thoughts. He nibbled at his lips, and Damian could see the water gather at the rim of Tim’s eyes. “I just wanted to earn my keep, ya know,” Tim said, “Terry’s the one that give me the ok. I know that Jay and Dickie were always inclusive. Hell, I didn’t really talk until Jason forced me to.” He then looked up to Damian with a tired smile on his face. “And no matter what you say,” Tim teased, “I knew from the moment you gave me a shuriken that you accepted me.” Damian tt-ed, but he knew that Tim’s words were the truth. “But,” the younger continued, “It was Terry that said that I could stay. When the police wanted to put me in the system, _Terry_ told them that I would be staying with the Waynes – not Bruce.” He then sighed. “I just wanted to keep my spot,” he explained, “Now that Terry’s gone, I didn’t want you all to send me away. I keep telling myself that it’s irrational-“

“So you know,” Damian said and Tim paused. “You know that despite your flaws,” Damian continued, “Which you have many of.” Tim outright laughed just like Damian wanted him to. His cheeks were slightly wet and red, but scrunched up sweetly as he smiled. Damian returned the laugh with a smile of his own. It was even less common for Damian to see Tim _laugh_. He reached out and placed his palm above Tim’s knuckles. They were scarred and bruised, a testament of Tim’s strength (the strength that Damian wished Tim displayed more often). He rubbed his calloused thumb along them, letting Tim know that this was beyond jokes. He meant every word of what he was about to say. “We will _never_ abandon you, Timothy,” Damian declared.

Tim's eyes widened in shock. “I-,” he began, but words seemed beyond him at the moment. “I needed that,” he said instead, “I really needed that.” He placed his other hand atop Damian’s. “I miss him,” Tim said, “So, I can’t imagine what this is doing to you.” Damian let the smile slip from his face, and moved to pull his hand from Tim’s grasp. However Tim was faster, clenching to his older brother’s hand. “I’m not stupid either,” Tim replied with a smile, “I was there. I watched the two of you become brothers. I know this is doing something to you.” Damian looked down then. It wasn’t in his plan to expose his insecurities. “You can talk to me, too,” Tim offered.  

“Tt,” Damian grunted softly, “I doubt you’ll be of any help.” Tim frowned, hurt flashing across his face. Damian was reminded of the small boy that wanted nothing more than to help. “That wasn’t meant to be offensive,” he explained, “Just honest.” The raven then rose, patting Tim as he rounded his desk and headed to the door. “Besides,” he said, “I have my ways of releasing my frustrations.”

Tim eased the frown from his face. Despite their stained relationship, he knew better than to push. “I’m sure you do,” Tim sassed instead. He placed his feet on Damian’s pristine desk, and Damian could feel his blood boil. Tim also knew how he felt about filth. The teen cracked a smile when he saw the irritation on Damian’s face. Now this was an usual conversation between Tim and Damian. There were never many words, only disrespectful actions and smug smiles. “I’m sure you do,” Tim repeated, “Don’t hurt Two Face too badly.”

“No guarantees, younger brother,” Damian replied. He could just hear Tim’s whispered ‘he never calls me that’ as he let the door shut behind him.

 

* * *

 

_Brother,_

_I could never understand how you got that Drake boy to like you. Actually, I could never understand how_ you _could like that Drake boy._

_… I wish I was as personable as you. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to hurt in order to help._

_~~I don’t think that I can do this.~~ _

_~DW_

 

     


	2. Keeping Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's letting his cereal go soggy. Everyone knows that something's up once the cereal starts to go soggy.

Dick’s cereal was getting soggy. The boy sighed, stirring it absentmindedly. He hated soggy cereal, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat it. “Birdie?” Dick looked up from his milky reflection to see Jason standing over him. The older brother dragged one of kitchen chairs closer to Dick and flopped unceremoniously into it. “What’s eating at you,” he asked as he sat. Dick shrugged, pulling his spoon from his bowl to watch the milk drip from it. “Dude,” Jason pressed, “You’re wasting food. Something’s better be wrong with you.”

Dick chuckled then. “That was very ‘Mrs. Harrison’ of you,” Dick teased. Jason cracked a smile at the mentioning of his old foster mother. “It doesn’t matter,” Dick said, “It’s actually kinda silly.” He paused to finally scoop the cereal into his mouth. He nearly gagged when the fruity puff ball instantly dissolved in his mouth. Goodness, he hated soggy cereal. “Maybe I should’ve eaten eggs instead,” he mumbled, “You can always heat up old eggs.”

“Or,” Jason commented, “You can just eat your cereal before it turns into mush.” The teen leaned back against the table, spreading his long arms along it. He almost spilt Dick’s cereal, but the youngest was fast enough to pull it out of the way. “Seriously, Birdie,” he said as he kicked his feet out and crossed them at the ankle, “If you got any problems, you can tell me.” He nudged Dick, causing Dick’s Captain Crunch to tousle dangerously in its bowl. Forget Dick not eating it; Jason was going to spill it all over the floor. “We got to have each other’s back,” he said.

“I know,” Dick said. He cradled his cereal to his chest, eating it just so Jason wouldn’t spill it.  “It’s just not that serious,” the boy said, his mouth puffed up with milk and soggy cereal. “Honestly,” Dick continued once he cleared his mouth, “Nothing seems that serious anymore since Terry left.”

Jason groaned, sagging into his chair. “Are we really doing this,” he asked. He spread out so dramatically that Dick was afraid that he was going to slide out the wooden chair. “He’s gone,” Jason said, “People come and go all the time, Dick. It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, the sellout said that he’ll be back.” He sat up then, his teal eyes hardening. “Save the waterworks for his funeral,” Jason grumbled, “Until then, leave him to his thing. _He left us to ours._ ”

Dick sighed. He knew that Jason was going to act that way. Dick knew that his brother had a way of being _mad_ when he really wanted to be _sad_. “I guess,” Dick said. He began picking at his cereal again. “You know,” he whispered to the side of Jason’s scowling face, “It’s ok to miss him.” Jason sucked his teeth, and Dick instantly knew to drop it. “Anyway,” he said instead, “It not that I’m worried about.” Jason finally turned back towards him, slouching easily again. “You know Alfred’s going to lose it when he sees you ruining your uniform,” Dick mentioned.

Jason just shrugged. “I know,” Jason replied, “But fuck Gotham Academy and their monkey suits.” He then yanked softly on Dick’s hair. “Besides,” he said, “That’s not what we were talking about, Birdie.” Dick smiled sheepishly. He’s been called out. “But I can tell when someone’s avoiding a subject,” Jason shrugged good naturedly, “I’ll leave you to your secrets.” He then scoffed and shook his head, his face lighting up with a fond smile. “Since when have you been old enough to have secrets, anyway,” Jason teased. Dick went to defend himself and duck under Jason’s incoming headlock when a honk sounded from the driveway. Jason’s eyes lit up. “And that will be my ride,” he said as he hopped from his seat, “See you at lunch.”

“Wait,” Dick called as Jason raced to the door, “Are you getting a ride with Barbra?” Jason yelled back in affirmative. “Tell her I said hi! See you at lunch!” The door slammed shut, leaving Dick along with his empty cereal bowl. “Wait,” he said once he noticed his bowl was empty, “That bastard tricked me into eating soggy cereal! Goodness, he’s worse than Wally when it comes to food!”

“I doubt if anyone could be worse than that human garbage disposer.” Dick jumped, turning so fast in his chair that he rammed his knee into the chair Jason moved earlier. Damian watched as Dick rubbed at his sore knee, amused. The older held a coffee mug in his hand. He stood regally despite being shirtless, his hair smushed to one side of his head, and his pajama pants hung low on his waist. Man, Dick wished he could rock bed hair and still look like a Arabian prince. “Good morning, Little One,” he spoke once his amusement cleared from his face, “Care to share why you are not dressed for school?”

Dick tilted his head in confusion. “Bruce didn’t tell you,” he asked, “I got a mission today. I won’t be going to school until the afternoon.” He then paused. “If things go right,” Dick added.

“You mean once things proceed correctly,” Damian amended. He sat in the chair that Jason once occupied, wearing the same concerned expression that Jason was sporting earlier. “What reasons would there be for your operation to not go smoothly,” he asked, “You are proficient enough to complete whatever tasks Father has given to you.”

Dick beamed at the confidence his brother had in him, before deflating. He remembered why he was sitting in the kitchen letting his Captain Crunch get soggy. “Things haven’t been going well with the team,” Dick began. Damian took a sip from his mug, his brow raised in question. Dick smiled a little. That expression was such a ‘Bruce’ expression. The smile dissolved though, once he began to explain. “I don’t know,” Dick said with a shrug, “It’s like I have a hard time keep up with them.”

Damian sat his mug down, a frown marring his face. “Tt, impossible,” he declared with so much confidence that it made Dick blush. “There’s no way that you are falling behind a group of amateur teens,” he continued. He sounded indignant at the thought of it. “I ensured that you and I underwent similar training,” he continued, “I took no short cuts with you. Your skills are tailored to both you age and size. You’ve performed above average in everything I, Terry and Father have taught you.” He then sipped angrily at his coffee, and Dick had to bite his lip to hold back his laugh. “There is no possible way that those you are teamed with are better,” he concluded.

“I don’t even know where to start with that monster of a speech,” Dick chuckled, “You are really not turbed right now.” Damian rolled his eyes at Dick’s broken English, but Dick ignored him. “I guess you’re right,” Dick said. He settled into his seat and rubbed at his chin. “ I suppose that _they_ kinda have a hard time keeping up with _me_ ,” he said. Damian again raised an eyebrow, but he was also wearing a proud smirk. Dick laughed at the blatant pride, but he also ruffled his hair in frustration. “C’mon Big D, I’m flailing here! Look, I’m glad that you’re proud of me,” Dick began, “But you making me into this ultra badass is holding my team back!”

“Or,” Damian began. He smile turned arrogant, and Dick could already tell where this talk was going. “Maybe your team is holding you back,” the older said and Dick could facepalm right now. This is _not_ the advice he wanted. It was why he didn’t want to tell Jason. The teen would have told him to just give it up. He was stronger on his own anyway. Dick didn’t believe that. He needed his team, just like his team needed him. He began to fuss, but Damian’s playful smirk caught his attention. “I know this is not what you want to hear,” Damian said, “But it’s the truth. Instead of turning a blind eye to it in order to spare your friends, you must acknowledge your differences. You must acknowledge that you are not only better, but better by _leaps_ and _bounds_.”

Dick shrank into his seat. “I know that,” he sulked. It’s the reason why everything’s so strained. He wanted to do his best, but his best was just making things worst.

“So what are you going to do about that,” Damian challenged. Dick looked up from the table. That was the entire reason for this talk! He didn’t know what to do. “You have two options,” Damian continued once he saw how his challenge intimidation his youngest brother, “Slow down for them, or force them to speed up.”

Dick thought for a moment. Both options sounded like a struggle, but neither were options that he thought he’d hear from Damian. Damian was always so fiercely independent. He was a do or die type of guy, unless he was teaming up with... _Oh_ , now everything made sense. “So,” Dick said slyly, “What did _you_ choose?” When he looked to Damian, he found his brother smiling. “Did you slow down for Terry,” Dick asked, “Or did you force him to speed up?”

Damian laughed and leaned back into the kitchen chair. He ran his hand through his messy raven hair and flashed proudful sapphire eyes to his littlest brother. He ruffled the other’s hair, thoroughly impressed by Dick. “I did both,” Damian answered. He looked up then, distant memories clouding his vision. “I slowed down in the beginning,” he explained, “Terry was used to fighting for survival. It wasn’t about efficiency, only urgency. I had to change the way he thought of combat.” The man rubbed at his messy locks before continuing. “It was easier to train you and Tim,” he said, “The two of you had nothing to reference. You two were clear slates. Jason and Terry however, had their own sloppy fighting styles that I had to train out of them. I had to go slow, let them win because they weren’t used to losing. It was only once they saw that the challenge was not against me, but against themselves could I then push them. And I pushed them, I pushed harder than I pushed you. At that point I knew that they could take it.” He then looked to Dick, asking him directly, “What does your team need from you? What can they take?” Dick started to answer, but Damian stopped him. “Do not answer now because you do not know now,” he said, “You are just starting, but observe your team for now, become useful when they need you. Once you know your team and their needs, accommodate yourself to fit. That’s what I did.”  

Dick nodded uneasily. Damian made it sound so simple, but he was _Damian_ – he made _everything_ sound simple. “That easy, huh,” he joked.  Damian smiled guiltily at him. “Not easy at all, huh,” he asked, and Damian gave him a solemn nod. Dick nibbled at his fingers, and rocked slightly in his seat. Just what did he get himself into with this team? “I don’t think I can do this, Big D,” Dick said softly, “Training people is your thing. I don’t anything about that.”  

“I think that you can,” Damian answered. He then looked off thoughtfully. “If I’m being truthful,” Damian began, “I believe that out of all of us you are the most suited for this.” Dick looked up at his older brother with wide royal blue eyes. Damian paused once he saw how much is words affected Dick. The elder could never understand how someone so gifted thought so little of himself. The same can even be said about Tim. He wondered if he could ever convince them of their strength. He smiled down at his youngest brother, determined to tell him of his worth. “You may be the youngest,” he said, “But you have so much potential and such a good heart. I cannot wait to see what you grow to be, Little One.”

Dick blushed softly, and determination began to flourish in his heart. He was going to do this, and he was going to make Damian proud. However, his thoughts were rudely interrupted when he found himself thrown over Damian’s shoulder and lugged from out of the kitchen. “Wait,” Dick said as he wiggled in Damian’s grip, “I was having a moment! Put me down!” He kicked and squirmed but Damian only laughed. “I’m not a little kid anymore, you know,” he called.

“Remember that when you ask me to spot you,” Damian called in return, “I might just remember that children aren’t supposed to swing from chandeliers for their birthdays.” He then grabbed Dick by his ankle and dangled the boy in front of him. Since Dick was so short and Damian so large, he could easily pull the boy to almost eye level. “You are not allowed to sulk anymore,” he teased, “Waynes do not sulk.”

“Seriously,” Dick deadpanned, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face, “You might want to give that memo to Bruce.” Damian gave a hearty laugh. It’s been a while since they played like this. As a boy he would always climb Damian like a jungle gym. It was one of the first ways they bonded, years ago when Dick couldn’t speak well enough to get to know him. It reminded the younger of the late nights they spent eating Romanian food with their hands; those days when Dick was feeling homesick and tired of silverware. “Put me down,” he said. He then smirk and a crackle echoed in the manor. “I got a mission to get ready for,” he said slyly.

“That you do,” Damian said. He placed Dick on his hands, smiling fondly as the boy walked up the steps and to his room upside-down. “He’s growing up,” Damian said before returning to his cold cup of coffee.

* * *

 

_Brother,_

_Dick was easier. Though, Dick was always easier. I can’t explain it, but I know that Richard is going to be remarkable someday. ~~It scares me.~~_

_I wonder if it scares you._

_… I just hope that we are leading him down the right direction._

_~DW_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I freaking LOVE Dick and Damian! I gotta write a mission or something for them two.


	3. Respect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's somewhere he really shouldn't be. To make matters worst, he brought a friend of Damian's along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!  
> Introducing new character: Colin Wilkes. (His backstory has changed slightly.)  
> He's 21 (The same age as Damian)  
> He lived in the same orphanage as Jason.  
> Met Nightingale before he met Damian (get into their meeting in another story)  
> Still had his run in with Scarecrow  
> Sometimes partners with the Batfamily.  
> Current Student at Gotham University (So is Damian btw)

It was warmer than expected in Gotham. The hot air melded Jason’s leather gloves to his fists, and made his Kevlar lined bodysuit nearly suffocating. He thought about ditching the leather vest, but he remembered the gadgets he kept in the pockets and decided to sweat it out. He still tugged at his high collar, though. “Maybe there’s A/C inside,” Jason whispered hopefully to Colin beside him. The redhead gave him a sympathetic smile as he pulled his fedora further down on his face. They both knew the chances of that being really low. Jason shrugged, “A guy can dream, right.”

“I suppose,” Colin replied. The older smiled charmingly. “Where would we be without dreams, huh,” he chuckled, and Jason rolled his eyes fondly. The smile eased off Colin’s face, though and he stared Jason down. His sudden seriousness threw Jason off. “Are you sure we should be here,” he asked. He chewed his bottom lip as his freckled cheeks began to match his hair. “Damian is going to kill me when he finds out,” the young man muttered to himself, “And it’s not if, but when.”

Jason rolled his eyes again, though this time it wasn’t as fondly. “He’s not going to find out,” Jason insisted, “He busy busting Penguin’s gun smuggling operation with Timmy. He won’t even notice.” Colin opened his mouth with a rebuttal on his tongue, but Jason was ready for that excuse too. “Bruce is on JL business,” he interrupted, “He won’t find out either, and before you say anything, there’s really no use hiding things from Alfred. So I wouldn’t even try to stress about that.”

The red pulled his hat off to rub irritably at his hair. “How did I get roped up in this,” he sighed, “I thought you’d stop pulling me into your schemes once I left the orphanage.” Jason frowned subconsciously, and Colin couldn’t help the way his heart melted. He could just see the little brat that bothered him relentlessly when Jason couldn’t get his way. He smiled fondly and ruffled the other exposed hair. “I guess there’s no getting rid of you,” he teased and Jason cheesed at him. (Maybe the pout was more intentional than Colin thought.) They stepped up a little further as another group of people were called in. Colin frowned as he watched the team enter the decrepit building. “Still,” he mentioned lowly, “An underground fighting ring, Jay?”

“Blue Jay,” a booming voice called, “Abuse!” Jason smirked when their names were called. It was too late to ask questions now. The two walked to the bouncer as the man looked over his clipboard to sneer down at the two of them. “You’re small,” he said to Colin before addressing Jason, “And you’re too young. No go.”

The two shared a glanced between each other. They were not expecting that. “Fuck that,” Jason said. He nudge the bouncer’s shoulder, and to the gigantic man’s surprise he budged. “I’m old enough to die in a car crash,” he said, “So I’m old enough to put in work in the octagon!”

The man snorted despite the impressed expression that showed on his face. “So what,” he teased, “You’re like, sixteen?” Jason nodded and Colin facepalmed. The kid turned sixteen just two weeks ago. Damian’s going to kill Colin; the red just knew it. “Man, kids sure are in a rush nowadays,” the bouncer said, “You want in this Royal Rumble, fine I ain’t stopping you.” He then turned to Colin, using his height and mass to try an intimidate the other.  “What ‘bout you,” he asked Colin, “There’s gonna be all types of shit in that ring – metas and everything. What you got that’s gonna keep you alive?”

Colin sighed. He was used to this, people underestimating him. It was how he stumbled over Damian after all, or should he say _Nightingale_. He simple shrugged and said, “A bad past and enough venom in my blood to give Bane a run for his money.” The bouncer’s eyebrows nearly collided with his hairline. Colin shrugged again. “I also got this bitching hat and trench coat,” he teased, “I heard from a guy named Question that these things made you an instant badass.” 

“Name dropping now,” the man sassed, “And we all know that if you know Question, then you gotta know Huntress.” He tapped at his clipboard before stepping aside. “I hope to see a good show,” he said.

The two nodded before entering the small, sweat-soaked building. Colin shivered, his claustrophobia rearing its ugly head.  “This was such a bad idea,” he mumbled to himself. 

* * *

 

Jason slammed hard against the fencing surrounding the ring, the wind knocked out of him. This was such a good idea. He coughed, wiping the blood from his grin. It’s been a while since he had a fight like this. No hold-bar, and there were no rules. There was no one to tell him to hold his punches and be careful of breaking bones. He gripped the holes in the fence and pulled himself up. He was right where he wanted to be.

He was barely standing when a heavy boot entered his vision. He planted his feet and readied himself for the impact. The guy he was face was small enough, Jason could easily send him flying. Though, before the foot could connect, a behemoth of a man grabbed Jason’s opponent by the waist and tossed him to the other side of the ring. Jason frowned a little. He wanted to do that. “Still think that this is a good idea,” the giant barked down at Jason, “Because I don’t think so anymore.”

“A great idea,” Jason answered, “Besides, you never thought it was a good idea.” He was standing better now, so he can talk shit. “We got this,” he exclaimed. He decidedly ignored the blood sliding through his teeth and dripping from his forehead. His giant of a friend decidedly didn’t. The monster of a man rose a disfigured eyebrow. “Cols, I didn’t even know that you could get your face to _do that_ when you transformed,” Jason breathed before chirping out a quick, “Spot me.” Quickly, Colin folded his hands together, creating a stepstool for Jason. The teen rapidly climbed up, and was launched across the ring. He landed on another opponent with a sickening crack, his fist smashing against the other’s face. He hit the other with so much force, he ended up face first into the fence again. “I told you,” he screamed to Colin, his grin wild. He kneeled down and jabbed the man under him, breaking the other’s nose and knocking him out, “We got ugh!”

“Jay,” Colin called. Jason grunted as he was forced to his knees, his arm twisted behind his back and bent at the wrist. The teen tried to twist from out of the grip, his writhing almost feral, but he was held too tightly to break free. He was more likely to break his arm before he broke the hold. Colin frowned, that was… unusual. Jason was strong, not meta strong, but strong. He should have been able to break out of that. Fearfully, Colin began to interfere, but stopped cold when he saw the golden dagger that he gifted Damian for his eighteenth birthday sitting on the hooded opponent’s belt. “Oh, God,” Colin groaned, “I knew Damian was going to find out.” He didn’t have enough time to ponder about it, though, as he ducked under a flying chair. “Jay let up,” he called before he was jumped, “It’s-“

Jason rolled his eyes. Only one person could keep him in a submissive hold. “Damian,” he said, “Glad you can join us-” The boy choked on the last word as Damian wrenched his arm further behind him. “I get it,” Jason whined, “You’re not up for jokes.” The teen heard a snicker but the grip didn’t loosen. At least the tighter hold forced Jason still.

“Actually I’m stalling for time,” Damian answered, “I must make it look like I’m harming you so others won’t attack you. Meanwhile, Red Robin is working on a convincing electrical fire to get these people out of here.” Damian then released Jason, shoving the younger away from him.

The teen stumbled away from Damian in a mess of bad footwork that shamed the entire clan. He barely raised his metal plated knuckles up fast enough to block Damian’s sword. “Really,” Jason asked, his teal eyes lighting up. The other sliced again, the swing so quick that Jason heard it before he saw it. He blocked with his arm, allowing his Kevlar to take the hit, before giving Damian a quick flurry of punches in the gut. His elder brother stumbled away, doubling over. “Gotta make it look real, right,” Jason shrugged. Damian face contorted into a dangerous smirk. Jason couldn’t help but to mimic it. He _loved_ fighting Damian.

“Right,” Damian echoed. He swung again, aiming for Jason’s throat and the boy let his forearm take the hit again. The blade bit through Jason’s armor this time, lightly tearing his skin. Jason shoved the blade away, going for a hook before stopping. Damian wasn’t paying attention. “It would have to be another time,” the elder voiced, “Smoke.” He caught eyes with Colin, who was handling a crowd of people, and tapped his nose. The red burst from the dogpile, and Jason deflated as Damian pulled a smoke bomb from his belt. “Unfortunately it’s time to go,” he teased.

* * *

 

Damian tapped at Jason’s temple with alcohol, the boy flinching when his cut was touched. The two were stripped from their disguises, now. They were silent as they sat on the cold metal medical bed in the cave. It was the only them. Tim headed to bed, while Colin waited in the manor’s kitchen. The red’s fear of bats usually kept him from out of the cave, despite knowing their secret.

“Hold still, Todd,” Damian ordered as he gripped Jason by his nape. He tilted the other’s head to and fro as he cleaned a surprisingly huge cut that lined the width of Jason’s forehead. “Too slow,” Damian said. Jason went to question, but Damian changed his hold from Jason’s nape to his jaw, instantly shutting him up. “You ducked to slow,” he answered anyway, “That’s why you have this cut.” He then dabbed at Jason’s lip, which was split and slightly swollen. “And what did I tell you about biting your lip while you’re fighting,” he chastised. When he finally let go of his little brother’s face his sapphire eyes were lit with anger. “Explain your actions,” Damian commanded.

“I’m sorry,” Jason quickly soothed. Jason had few fears, but an angry Damian was one of them. He watched cautiously as Damian left the metal bed to retrieve some gauze nearby. “But, you gotta understand,” he continued, “I had to.” Damian folded his arms as he settled back down, apparently ready to listen to Jason’s excuses. “You see,” he began hastily, “This kid from the Narrows.” Damian glare hardened and Jason stopped. He chewed at his already abused lip. “Okay,” he started again, slower, “It’s deeper than that.”

“I would assume so,” Damian answered. He unwrapped the gauze before opening an icepack. “You drug my beloved into this,” he explained, “You usually only bother Colin when things are serious.” He pressed the pack onto a bruise that was forming on Jason’s cheek, lifting the teen’s hand and forcing him to hold it. He then began to wrap the gauze around Jason’s purpling ribs. “So explain, like a asked,” he said. He looked up from Jason’s chest, waiting for his brother to speak.

Jason looked back, never one to back down from eye contact. “I had to,” he declared, “I had to prove that I’m no bitch.” Damian frowned, and the confusion pushed Jason to elaborate. “Back in the day,” he said, “When I was just a snot-nosed brat roaming the streets, I had this reputation. I didn’t think nothing about it. I gained my rep simply because I ain’t take no shit.” He shrugged as best as he could with Damian finishing his wrappings.  “I didn’t care about it, but it came in handy,” he said, “When things got tough, when people would fuck with my crew and I was too hungry to fight it out, I could just show up. My presence was enough for people to leave my friends alone.”

Damian nodded. “I see,” he said, “But what does this have to do with anything?” He tossed the remaining first aid material aside, and Jason rolled his eyes. The teen took them back up, and began patting at a bloody burn wound near Damian’s collarbone.

“Somebody almost shot you in the throat,” Jason voiced. The other didn’t say anything. Damian simply moved to allow Jason to work, holding scarily still. Jason sometimes wondered what Damian had to endure to be able to ignore pain the way he did. The teen grit his teeth. “It shit like this,” he growled out, “If I had as much pull here as I did there.” He then sat back, his shoulders heavy. “I just thought that if Blue Jay had a rep like Jay from 34th did,” he whispered, “Maybe my big brother wouldn’t have to get grazed. The bad guys would just know better.” He then finished Damian’s burn wound with cream and gauze, covering it all with tape. “Maybe I can stop those pimps from hurting those girls on 23rd street,” he said. He clutched his fist for a moment, staring at them. “I thought I was stronger now,” Jason said, “I am stronger, stronger than I’ve ever been. Yet that doesn’t even fucking matter. I can’t protect anybody. For fuck’s sake, I can’t even keep my family together.” He started on the next wound, a bruise around Damian’s kidney where Jason punched him earlier. “What’s the use of doing all of this,” Jason asked, “If shit just fall apart anyway? Those girls are still getting slapped up. The Narrows is still as shitty as it’s ever been! So, I went out there to put some respect on my name. Maybe then I can _actually_ help.”

The cave fell into an uncomfortable silence after Jason finished his explanation. So, when Damian laughed, it echoed loudly among the caves walls. “What you are explaining sounds very familiar,” Damian said, “So familiar, I’ve actually heard it twice in my lifetime.”

Jason frowned. “What are you talking about,” he asked.

“Did Father ever tell you why he chose bats,” Damian asked instead of answering. Jason shook his head in the negative. “He has a similar mindset as you,” he explained, “He wants to instill unbridled fear within his enemies, and do you know what Father once feared the most?” Again Jason replied negatively. “Bats,” Damian answered, “Father once greatly feared Bats, and he wants others to feel that same fear when they see him. Sounds similar, no? Even Grandfather feels the same. He wishes to rule the world through fear. He wants to act as the greatest deterrence to disorder. If humans feared the League of Assassins more than they innately cherished disorder and destruction, then the world will know peace. Is that what you’re striving for?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want people to be afraid of me,” Jason mused aloud, “At least I don’t think so.” Damian raised an interested eyebrow. He thought that was exactly what his younger brother wanted. If not fear than what? “I just want to be strong enough to protect everybody,” he said, “I want to prove to everyone that I am.”

“I see, I can understand that desire,” Damian nodded, “Fine then. I will keep this outing between us, besides, Father would be a hypocrite if he disapproved.”

Jason nearly gagged. “Are you serious? I’m off scotch free!”

“Yes,” Damian nodded, “Though next time take me with you. Beloved hates smaller places.”

“Take you with me,” Jason choked out. He then nearly toppled them both off the medical bed when he tackled his elder brother with a hug. “You are insane and I fucking love it,” he exclaimed.

“There is a catch, however,” Damian said and Jason froze atop of him. Sitting them both up, Damian continued. “Train first,” he said, “Intensely. You fought sloppily and overeagerly. I want nothing but the best from you. Once I deem you ready, we will return and earn your respect. By the time we’re done, you’ll be the most revered name in The Narrows.”

“Yeah,” Jason said softly, “You think so?”

“I do,” Damian answered, “Now leave. I must have a long discussion with Colin.”

“Ooooh,” Jason teased, “First name, you must be _pissed_.” The glared he received in return kept the rest of his jokes in his mouth. He remembered that arm lock. “I’ll leave before you redirect that ire,” he said bounding up the steps three at a time. “Colin,” Damian heard Jason called throughout the manor, “You’re in trouble!”

“I know,” Damian heard Colin call back, “I know!”

* * *

 

_Brother,_

_I truly believe that Jason is insane. Though, to be fair, I don’t believe myself to be much saner. It’s hard to steer him in the right direction. He and I are destructive in similar ways, and the poor decisions that he makes are the same poor decisions I make._

_~~I have a feeling that I will guide him to his biggest failure.~~ _

_~ DW_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore little Colin. (Also, that was what I was referring to when I asked about couples.) I'm thinking about how I'm going to add Jon into Damian's friend circle. Anyway next chapter is the last chapter.


	4. Equals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian comes to the realization that his advice is valued and that he is valued. With that thought in mind, Damian gives his last piece advice to one that needs it most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter you guys!!! For those that were waiting, thanks for being so patient.

Damian rubbed at the paint that began to harden between his fingers. The colorful chips peeled away, falling in a flurry of hues onto his rosewood desk. He ignored the mess for now, and focused on the smile that was forming in front of him. He took a moment to study the painting, letting his eyes roam over floppy raven hair and mischievous royal eyes. Carefully, he took a black and darkened the line along the figure’s cheeks and jaw. “Since when did I have to draw Grayson’s jaw so sharp,” Damian mumbled to himself. He pulled opened his desk drawer and retrieved his old sketchbook from within. Flipping through it, he paused at Dick’s sketches only to realized that he’s been slowly sharpening Dick’s features for months now. Jason’s and Tim’s visage also became sharper over time. Jason’s jaw grew stronger, while Tim’s eyes were less round and his cheeks were less abundant. Damian frowned. He’s always prided himself on his observational abilities. It was what he favored most about art, the attention to detail it required.  “How could I not see how fast they are aging,” he asked as he stared at his artwork.

“No need to be so harsh on yourself, Master Damian,” another spoke from the doorframe, “I didn’t notice it at first either.” Damian sat down his sketchpad, pushing his chair away from his desk. He eyed Alfred silently and the aged butler smiled slightly in return. “I can barely recall you becoming an adult,” the man said as he stepped inside. He easily placed a hand on the back of Damian’s chair. Meanwhile, his mind reminded him of times when he wasn’t allowed to be so close. “I only remember the insolent child that stomped around and threatened to relieve me of my duties,” the old butler joked, “I never would have guessed that stubborn child would grow to be such a great young man.”

“Tt,” Damian sounded. He drew up a smirk he only used for his enemies, remembering the days when everyone was his enemy. “Don’t get too comfortable, Pennyworth,” he snarked, “My first decree after I obtain my father’s fortune is your forced retirement. Then, I’m replacing you with servants that are worth my presence.” He cracked a soft smile. “That still hasn’t changed,” he said, “ Someone has to force you to stop before you work yourself into an early grave.”

The man chuckled. That speech surely brought back memories. “Master Damian,” he replied, “My grave would be far from an early one.” The Wayne heir gave his butler a sour look, but just as he’s done years before, Alfred ignored it. Instead he smiled softly at his pseudo-grandson. “I’m just glad that everything will be left in good hands,” Alfred said.

“Good hands,” Damian returned, “Are you referring to me?” He picked up his paintbrush and began to delicately shade the shadows that had formed as Dick’s cheekbones became more pronounced. “I doubt that I’ll be a proper replacement,” Damian continued teasingly, “I’m not much for cleaning.” He paused then, his teasing smirk fading as his fingers tightened their hold on his paintbrush. “I’m not much in other areas, either,” he mumbled. The room fell into silence after Damian spoke, the two men watching as Damian painted. “I,” he said into the silence, “I don’t know if I’m doing a good job.” He placed down his paintbrush again and linked his fingers together under his chin. “The others continue to come to me for advice,” he disclosed, “And I’m not quite sure if the advice I give is helpful or harmful.”

Alfred hummed. He wasn’t lying when he said that he never thought that Damian would grow to be as he was. He looked down and couldn’t hold the warmth that flooded him. Damian was so much like Bruce. “Your father thought the same,” Alfred began. The words caused Damian to look up. The old butler looked into the younger’s worried sapphire eyes. “And look at the man you’ve become,” Alfred said proudly, “I’ll tell you as I have told Master Bruce. You’re doing fine, Damian.” The man opened his mouth to refute, but Alfred stopped him. He stooped down as he once did when Damian was young, and placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I know how hard this is for you, but you truly are doing well. Words cannot describe how incredibly proud of you I am,” he said, “You’ve come far.” The man then rose and smoothed out his creaseless slacks and brushed nothing from his shoulders. “This came for you,” the man said, butler once more, “It came in the mail this morning. You’re not the only one writing letters.”

“How did you know,” Damian began to ask, but he stopped when he was met with a raised eyebrow. Maybe Alfred was the true detective in the Wayne Manor. Instead, Damian simply took the envelope that was handed to him. It was small, crumpled around the edges and covered in chicken scratch. “Terry,” he asked. “Why would he be writing us?”

“Not ‘us’ Master Damian,” Alfred said, “You.”

Indeed, upon closer inspection, Damian found his name only. The letter was addressed to him specifically. “Now I’m even more baffled,” the young heir voiced. He still put his finger under the fold, paint chips catching along the edges and coloring the white envelope various shades of blue. “Why would Terry be writing me,” he asked.

“When will you understand, Master Damian,” the older man sighed fondly. Damian eyed the man, waiting for an explanation. In place of one, the butler pulled out an old English coin, allowing it to slide among his knuckles. “You and Master Terrance are two sides of the same coin, Master Damian,” Alfred explained. He then tossed the coin, the two watching it as it flipped. “Well,” Alfred said as he gestured for Damian to catch it. The boy snatched it from the air, placing his palm above it. Alfred smiled, placing his own hand above Damian’s. “No matter if the coin lands on heads or tails,” the wise butler said, “This coin will always have the same value.” Finally, Damian confusion cleared and the stress eased off of his shoulders. “You are not Master Terry,” Alfred said, “But you do not need to be. You, as you are have just as much value.” They were equals. Alfred finally removed their hands and the coin showed tails up.  “Have a good night, Master Damian,” Alfred wished as he walked away.

“As do you, Pennyworth,” Damian whispered to the other’s retreating back, “As do you.” He then dipped back into his room and opened Terry’s letter.

 

* * *

 

_Hey Dame,_

_~~I’m not too sure~~ _

_~~I’m thinking of coming~~ _

_I miss you guys. I wonder if they boys brought the ceiling down yet._

_Joking aside, I ~~re~~ don’t regret leaving, but I’m not quite sure what I’m doing. Living in the manor made me soft. Not used to sleeping on the street anymore and I don’t have a Big Time to show me the ropes this time. I got the hang of it, though. It comes back to you. You never truly forget, you know. _

_Anyway, I’m just… I don’t know. I know that I’m looking for something, but I don’t know what that is. I just, I want to prove to myself that I’m not Bruce. I’ve been thinking, like really thinking and I’m realizing that the decisions I make ~~hell even this decision to go on this journey~~ is something that Bruce would do. The night gig, the girls, the criminal justice major, even helping the kids, it’s all something Bruce would do. _

_What would I do?_

_I have this question, but no way of finding an answer. I just want to know who I am. What would I’d choose. And it’s not just the being a ~~freak~~ clone stuff. It’s everything. Bruce is such a big ass shadow. Have I just been hiding behind it all of this time? I know that we’ve bumped heads, but have I just been giving in. I’m tired of giving in, Dame. _

_I wish that I was more like you. You do what you want. You found you own path and you always credit me with helping you with that, but that was all you, Dame. You think your own way. You utilize your training, not get buried underneath it. It’s a part of you. Every part of your life is you making the decisions that best suits you, even if it’s not the most… normal… solution. (You so freaking strange btw. Gotta take time to tease you.) I want to be more like that. I want to think for myself. ~~All this time I thought I was.~~_

_I can tell now, you know, that I don’t really think for myself. There’s always this little, I don’t know, tingle… reminder in the back of my head telling me to go a certain way, think a certain way. I tried to ~~rob rob~~   I can’t even write it out. When I tried, my body wouldn’t listen to me. I just wouldn’t move. Have I always been this way? I’m not even sure anymore. I’ve ~~stolen~~ things before, ~~mugged~~ a couple of people, but now I can’t. I don’t know what’s going on. _

_Dame, I just want to be free and I don’t know how._

_Sorry, I shouldn’t even be writing (I know you’re Tt-ing in your head right now). I know it’ll do more harm than good, and the others are probably going through it. Don’t tell them that I touched bases. ~~They only have to ask and I’d come back.~~ It wouldn’t be good for ~~me~~ them, you know. _

_I’m not expecting anything back, but I just needed to get this off of my chest. You’ve always been there for me, so... ~~I don’t know what to do now that you’re not.~~_

_I gotta go but thanks for reading my rambles,_

_Terry_

* * *

 

Damian read the letter again before folding it and placing it within his desk drawer. He locked it away along with old photos of his mother and grandfather – things and memories he kept to himself. He then pulled out his pen and paper to write one final letter. This one he was going to send.

* * *

 

_Brother,_

_Firstly, do not write again unless you are writing in order to_ _inform us of your return. You need to cut ties of this place or you will never find your independence._

_Secondly, I understand. You know I do. I believe that the only way to ensure that you stand strong in your morals is to have them constantly tested. That is what you’ve done for me. My ~~suggestion~~ advice, is to go to Lady Shiva. She will discipline you and help you gain further control of your body. Though I warn you, she will be the biggest challenge that you will ever face, not only physically but also morally. If your beliefs can stand against her then feel sure that they are yours. _

_She is of the League and thus have League morals. Be careful and do not look for her. I will send her to you. And before you consider refusing my help, consider it repayment for the help that you have given me. (If you can insist that you did nothing to assist me, then I will do the same.)_

_Be safe, Brother, and don’t worry for us or the ceiling. I can confidently say that I have things under control here._

_Expect one final letter from me with directions and a note to deliver to Lady Shiva. Hang on until then. (And don’t mingle too closely with peasants, I would hate to have to housebreak you again.)_

_Stay strong Terry,_

_~DW_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. The next story will probably be Damian confronting Waller, or Terry finding another member of the batclan, or maybe a Jason & Roy story... honestly not sure which will come first. Anyway, see you then.

**Author's Note:**

> Dami and Timmy, man. I wasn't sure if I was going to have this at each other's throats in my AU, but then I realized that I wouldn't be Dami and Timmy if they weren't. 
> 
> Sidenote: How do you all feel about couples, especially M/M couples? One is mandatory, but the others aren't. I was curious of how you'll feel about their inclusion. I want to expand the world a little beyond the brothers.


End file.
